Page 50 of The Call of Crimson
Spinning, I come face to face with the blue eyes of my mother. Dark hair flows around her in waves.
Gods, she looks just like Layne.
“Mother?” I ask, taking in her features.
The deep blue of her irises sparkles in the moonlight. Her olive skin almost holding an ethereal glow.
“Yes, baby girl.” She smiles, reaching a hand out to cup my cheek.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, laying my hand atop hers.
“A mother knows when something is troubling her child.” She gestures to the ground beneath the great tree. “Come, let’s sit and talk.”
We settle beneath it, our backs to the trunk, shoulders pressed together, as she laces her fingers through mine.
Her hand is small and delicate. She’s petite, something she passed along to me, but not Layne. Everything else about her is a mirror image of my brother. Chestnut waves, piercing blue eyes, olive skin, it was like looking at a female version of him. My creamy skin is pale against hers as her thumb strokes mine in soothing circles.
“Tell me what weighs on you, my dear,” she urges.
“I thought you knew what was on my mind.”
“I said a mother knowswhensomething is troubling her child, notwhatis troubling them. Mothers aren’t actually mind readers.”
“Are you sure?” I grin, nudging her gently.
“Yes, but the bit about us having eyes in the back of our heads to see everything you do—that one is definitely true,” she teases back, drawing a soft laugh from both of us.
“Why does this place feel so familiar?” I ask, ignoring her request to unburden myself on her.
“I should think it would,” she replies. “It’s been many years since you last played here, but this was one of your favorite places as a child.”
“What is it?”
“It is the private royal gardens.” She looks around wistfully. “They were a sanctuary tended by King Raynor and Queen Genevieve. Given their shared affinity for earth, they spent much of their time here together. This is where they fell in love.” She sighs as she says this, her eyes misting over at the memory.
“If it was so cherished, why does it look so abandoned?”
“It was maintained solely by the king and queen for the last two decades. They forbade anyone from tending to it, instead using it as an escape from the burdens of the crown. When the king died… a part of the queen did, too. No one has set foot in here since the king’s mind started going.” The smile fades, replaced with a sorrow I know too well.
“I feel like a part of me died with Layne,” I admit. “He took a piece of not just my heart but my mind as well.”
She leans in and presses a kiss to my hair. “I know, my love.”
“When does it get better?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She sighs deeply, rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. “There is no time limit on grief, no handbook on how to handle trauma, no right or wrong way to do it. You heal in your own time, in your own way. It will happen piece by piece, and you’ll take it one day at a time.”
“I miss him.”
“He misses you, too.”
I blink through the burn in my eyes. “So, how is it I spent so much time here as a child if it’s a private garden?”
“At one time, there were a lot of flowers here that held healing properties. I was permitted access to pick those neededin the salves and tonics the physicians use. You would follow me here every chance you got, playing amongst the flowers and climbing the tree. Sometimes you’d sneak out and come here on your own. I found you napping amongst the star lilies on more than one occasion.”
“I—”
“Ophelia,” a voice calls.
